


Dogs 101

by kingsatanthegay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Shiro (Voltron), How Do I Tag, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Lesbian Allura (Voltron), M/M, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, dogwalker AU, dogwalker!lance, idk where this is going, musician!keith, shiro and allura are roommates, so no romo bro, they're each others beards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsatanthegay/pseuds/kingsatanthegay
Summary: Allura's left Keith with her dog for two weeks while she and Shiro visit her uncle. Keith, naturally, knows nothing about dogs. Thankfully the dogwalker is there to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey, so this is my first fic, hope it's not too bad.  
> let me know what you think in the comments!  
> enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 07/08/18 to remove Shiro & Allura’s romance

Keith has never had a pet. Shiro knows this, and still he let Allura leave her dog alone with Keith. For two entire weeks.

Keith forgot Allura even had a dog, until he was standing in the doorway waving to her and Shiro, and Shiro leaned out the driver's side window of the car to shout, "Instructions are on the table! Have fun, and be nice!"

He blanched, feeling his heart drop to his feet. Instructions? Instructions for what? _...Oh shit. The dog. The_ fucking _dog._

"Hey! Shiro!" he called after the car that was rapidly reversing out of the driveway. "Don't you fucking drive away and leave me with this dog, Shiro! I swear to god it won't be here when you get back!"

Shiro said nothing, only waved and offered Keith a pleasant smile before speeding away down the empty street.

 _Dammit, Shiro,_ Keith thought angrily, watching the taillights flash as they rounded the corner. _Damn dog's gonna die, and what then? Blame Keith, as always!_

He slammed the door behind him and went to find the instructions. Hopefully they detailed everything from feeding to walking the dog. He peeled the sticky note off the wood and scanned it.

  
  
_\- feed 1 scoop dry food mixed w/ 2 tbsp wet food, twice daily_

_\- let outside several times daily_

_\- dogwalker's #: 778-605-0008_

  
  
Keith crumpled the yellow sticky in his fist, gritting his teeth. Why did Shiro always have to be so _vague_? How was Keith supposed to know when 'twice daily' was? And how far apart were the 'several times'? And _where was the goddamned dog, for Christ's sake_?

He strode into the living room, boot heels clunking loudly on the wooden floor. "Here, boy! Come here--" He paused. _The fuck is his name?_ Keith shook his head. _Doesn't matter. Just gotta find him._ He realized that the back door was open, cloudy sunlight spilling onto the kitchen tiles. He pushed open the screen and stepped onto the small deck, immediately spotting the dog in the small yard.

"Come," he said simply. The dog glanced up at him, then turned and scampered into the garden. "Oh, come on, don't do that!" Keith knew how Allura got about her flowers. He didn't need a repeat of the time he accidentally stepped on one when she'd shown them to him. He rushed over to where the dog was happily munching on flowers, blissfully unaware of the carnage Allura would see when she got back. He picked up the dog and dropped him inside the house. "Damn dog," he muttered, glaring at it.

Kneeling down, Keith grabbed the dog's license. _Coran._ What the hell kinda name was that? He knew Allura had named him after the uncle she was currently visiting, but it had never struck Keith as a real name that you would actually call your kid. Unless they'd been an accident.

Coran jerked out of his grasp and trotted over to his bowls, which were both empty.

"You hungry?" Keith asked, and the dog's ears perked up. "OK. Let's see here... One scoop of dry, two tablespoons of wet..." Keith recited the instructions as he added the food to the bowl, and set it down for Coran. By the time he'd filled up the water dish and set it back down, Coran had eaten more than half the food. Goddamn, this dog can eat.

When Keith glanced out the window, it was already evening, the sky a cloudy grey dyed orange and pink by the dying rays of the sun. The only time his muse really came to life. Sort of. If you count searching the internet for rhymes and writing lines with them, then his muse was electrified. Keith hadn't been able to write a song completely by himself since... Well, he didn't want to think about that. Pushing the thought from his mind, he dug out his pencil and notepad and opened it to the song he'd been working on last night. He took a seat on the living room chair and let his mind wander, wondering what could go with 'yellow.' At his feet, Coran whined, begging for attention. Lord knows that dog got spoiled with attention every other day, but Keith couldn't be bothered to touch the dog again.

An idea struck him. He flipped to a blank page and scribbled down some lyrics. They were dumb as fuck, but hey, he'd written them himself.

  
  
_You sure ain't a poodle_

_And you look like a noodle_

_So now I'll say toodles_

_So long, Spaghetti Dog_

  
  
A small smile flickered across his lips, fading into a yawn. Damn, was he really tired at-- Wait. Ten o'clock? When had it gotten that late? A glance out the window confirmed this; the sky was dark, so dark Keith could see himself reflected in the lamplight on the window. He was too comfy to move, so he dropped his notepad on the table and drew the blanket hanging on the back of the chair up to his chin. He was asleep within moments.

  
  
Shrill barking and firm raps on the door woke him. Sunlight flooded in through the window; he'd forgotten to close the curtains.

Keith stood, stretching, and made his way to the door. A man about his own age stood on the other side. Keith couldn't keep his eyes from roaming across the stranger's sunkissed skin. A small cough from the other snapped his attention back to eyes blue as the sky behind him.

"Got a kink?" the man asked with a grin.

"Ex-excuse me?!" Keith demanded, face turning a violent shade of red.

The man balked, apparently realizing how that sounded. "I-in your neck, I mean..." he clarified. "I, uh, saw you sleeping in that chair. But it's not like I--like I was looking in the window or anything, not on purpose anyway, I was just--"

Keith had no patience for stutterers and ramblers. He held up a hand, and the man stopped talking. "It's whatever. My neck's fine," Keith said bluntly. "Who are you?"

"O-oh yeah. You're not the girl who's usually here... Are you her--?"

Keith's brow furrowed. "I'm her friend... Uh... Who are you, though?"

The man blushed and looked away, a strange look in his eye. "Right, right. I'm the dogwalker. Lance. Your--friend--hired me to... walk her dog... obviously. So, uh, I'm here to... y'know, walk the dog."

Of course, the dogwalker. Shiro had written that on the sticky. "Oh. OK. Um... Do you know if this dog has his own leash, or like, do you have a bunch?"

Lance seemed confused by his question. "Uh, all the dogs usually have one. Why? Is yours lost or something?"

"No, no, I just... don't know where it would be. I don't live here, if you couldn't tell." Keith glanced away awkwardly. "So, I'll just... go look for it."

"I could help," Lance chimed. "I mean--only if you want me to, I could always just wait here, since this isn't my house..."

Keith gave him a small smile. "Yeah, sure, if you really want to. Come on in." He led the way into the kitchen, which he thought was the most logical place for dog stuff to be. He glanced around, then noticed the empty food bowl. As he scooped the food into the bowl, he heard Lance chuckle behind him. "What?" he demanded, turning around to face Lance.

"Nothing, just... You really don't know dogs, do you?" he asked with a grin.

"How did you know," Keith replied dryly.

"Well, first off, you're supposed to mix in the wet food, like this." Lance plucked a spoon out of the sink and proceeded to do just that. "And secondly, people don't usually keep their dog supplies in their kitchens, especially not Allura, considering how clean she always looks. They're more likely to be in a closet or something, close to the front door."

Keith blinked, taken aback by this man's knowledge of dogs. "Damn. That's impressive."

Lance shrugged. "What can I say, I was born a dogwalker." Keith chuckled a bit at this, and walked to the front entrance closet. Inside, just as Lance had said, was the dog's leash and collar. "Pure, unadulterated genius," Lance said from behind him.

Keith turned, finding their faces just a tad too close for comfort. "Uh... Yeah. Right. So, here's the stuff, and... there's the dog, over there..." He slipped out of the closet and picked up Coran, handing him to Lance. "So, uh, see you whenever the walk's over, I guess."

He herded Lance and the dog out of the door and almost had it shut when Lance protested, "You never told me your name."

Slowly, Keith opened the door again. "Keith," he told the other man, whose face, for some unknown reason, had turned a light shade of pink.

"Huh. Nice. Well, see ya Keith." He smiled, set the dog down, and put on the leash, leading him down the front walk and to the next dog's house.

 

Bored out of his mind waiting for Coran and Lance to return, Keith picked up his guitar and decided to write some chords to accompany his new song. Finding the right tune was harder than he expected, and no matter how he strummed the instrument, he couldn't seem to find a pattern that didn't make the song sound like a lullaby. He wanted it to sound intense, or, well, as intense as a song titled "Spaghetti Dog" could be.

How long did it take to walk some dogs?

Keith jotted down some more lyrics and sang them, strumming the guitar. It still didn't sound quite right, but it would do for now.

The sun had already peaked in the sky and was beginning its descent by the time Lance returned with the dog. A bit of sweat had broken out on his forehead and he was slightly more tanned than he had been earlier. He smiled widely when Keith opened the door.

Before Keith could say anything, Lance had already started talking: "He had a great time today, although he did eat a bunch of flowers and I'm not sure that's the best for dogs, especially at his age. Buuut! He didn't get into a fight with any other dogs this time! I think he's making some progress in the anti-social department."

Keith didn't know what to say to this. Lance was talking as if he had been watching Keith's kid instead of his dog. "Uh... Right. Thanks." He accepted Coran's leash from the other man. "So... Do I need to pay you, or...?"

"No, good sir, your friend Allura's already paid for this month. You don't have to worry about a thing," he said with a wink.

Keith felt his brow furrow again, and blinked, glancing away from Lance's piercing gaze. He knew the other man was watching him, and felt his face heat up in response. He cleared his throat and made to close the door before the question occurred to him. "So... How often do you come around?"

Lance's cheeks grew slightly pink and he spluttered for a moment. Keith only stared at him in confusion until he answered. "Um... O-oh, you mean for the dog," was all he managed. Keith raised an eyebrow. What else could he have meant? "Um, I come around most days. Cause. Y'know. The dogs need to be walked."

"OK. So, see you whenever then."

  
  
"Whenever" turned out to be every day. Most of the pick-ups and drop-offs were short, borderline curt, but after a few days, Lance decided to change that.

Keith was about to close the door when he squeaked, "Wait!"

Keith opened the door again, keeping the dog inside with his leg. "Yeah?"

Lance had turned red; very much so. "S-so... Y'know how you don't know much about dogs?"

"No, tell me more," Keith deadpanned.

Lance coughed, smiling slightly. "OK, well, I was thinking I could maybe teach you? Since you'll, y'know, be looking after Coran for I don't know how long?"

Keith's eyes widened, and he took a moment to respond. "Uh... Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

The two stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do now that the conversation had drawn to something of a close.

Lance was the first to break one of many silences to come. "So... see ya. Tomorrow." He waited until Keith had closed the door to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to stick to an update schedule, but... We shall see how well that goes.
> 
> edited 07/08/18 to remove Shiro & alluras romance

Having already grown accustomed to Lance's early pick-ups, Keith was up the next morning two hours before he would otherwise have been.

Keith did everything he could to keep himself occupied for the next few hours: showered, fed Coran, fiddled with his guitar... He even resorted to cleaning the house. Eventually he just couldn't take the nervous anticipation (why was he even nervous? He was just going to learn about dogs from someone who knew a lot about dogs), so he retrieved the crumpled sticky from the trash and programmed Lance's number into his phone. Keith thought about typing out a message somewhere along the lines of, "hey, can't wait for you to teach me about dogs!" but he didn't even have time to realize how _wrong_ it would be to send that kind of message to someone he'd just met when there was a hesitant knock at the door.

He practically threw his phone down on the chair and vaulted over the low table in his sudden adrenaline rush. He flung open the door without even bothering to hide the fact that he was slightly out of breath from jumping across the room. "Hey," he said, trying to look and sound casual.

Lance was staring at him with wide eyes that strayed maybe a little too far from Keith's. He cleared his throat and managed a "Hi" before averting his gaze.

"So, uh..." Keith cleared his throat. "I'll just... get the dog real quick." He stepped back into the house, calling Coran and collecting his leash from the closet.

Once the dog was leashed, Lance had recovered, back to his confident self--for the most part. "You ready?" he asked, finally managing to hold Keith's gaze.

This time it was Keith who looked away first. "Yeah. Let's go."

 

Keith walked Coran to the next dog's house, surprised at how bad he was at walking on a leash. When he wasn't sniffing the same blade of grass for five minutes or trying to jump into traffic, the dog was crossing in front of Keith's legs and wrapping the leash around his ankles.

"Good god, is he always like this?!" Keith exclaimed in a moment of intense frustration.

Lance chuckled. "You just have to hold him tight, like this." He took the leash from Keith, holding it with both hands. He gave Coran little slack, and the corgi stuck right to the man's side.

Keith gaped, furious and embarrassed. "Gimme that..." he grumbled, taking the leash back from Lance. Immediately the dog ran ahead, nearly ripping the leash from Keith's grip.

Lance caught it, forcing the dog to come to a stop. "You gotta hold it here, and stick your other hand through this loop..." He nodded as Keith followed his instructions. "Now wrap it around your hand till it's not slack anymore. Perfect!" They started walking again, but Coran still wouldn't walk properly. Lance stifled a laugh. "It takes practice. How about you walk Coran today, and I'll take the others."

Keith hesitated, not sure he could take on the challenge of walking more than one dog--or even just the one--but not wanting to seem pathetic in front of Lance. Reluctantly he nodded, knowing he shouldn't push himself. There were still other things he could show off to Lance.

Soon they and five other dogs had made their way to the dog park, where Lance took off their leashes to let them socialize.

"Hey, Lance!" a voice called. The two looked over and saw a short girl running over to them, a significantly larger man behind her.

"Hey, Pidge, Hunk!" Lance greeted them.

The short one--Pidge--glared up at Lance accusingly. "Where've you been the last few days?" she demanded. "I went by your house and you weren't there!"

Lance flushed, face panicked. "Oh--I was just, um... Walking the dogs."

Pidge narrowed her eyes, hands on her hips. "But you only walk the dogs twice a week..."

Now Lance was really freaking out. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, looking to Hunk for help.

Hunk, ever the saviour, swooped in to save the day. "So who's your new friend?"

Lance sighed in slight relief. "This is Keith. Keith: Pidge and Hunk."

"So how'd you two meet?" Pidge asked, giving Hunk the side-eye. 

Lance glance nervously at Keith from the corner of his eye. "Uh... Keith's Allura's friend."

Keith nodded. "Yeah. Allura went away for two weeks, so I'm watching her dog. Lance offered to teach me how, cause I don't know shit when it comes to animals."

Pidge wasn't bothering to hide the fact that she was grinning evilly, and Hunk had now joined in.

"Oho," Hunk said, "I see how it is. Unrequited. Forbidden. Between a customer and an employee. I'm rooting for you, Lance." He winked. He and Pidge laughed as if they were sharing an inside joke.

Keith looked at Lance, about to ask him to explain what was going on, when he noticed that Lance was now beet red.

"Uh, Lance? You good?" he asked. "Didja maybe get a little too much sun?"

Lance jumped, head whipping around to face Keith. "Huh?" he squeaked. "W-what do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that you're all red... Did you get burned already?" His brow furrowed as he studied Lance's face. It didn't quite look like a burn, though.

"N-no! I'm fine!" Lance exclaimed, turning to face the other way again. "Nothing's wrong, don't worry 'bout it, it's nothing!"

Pidge giggled behind her hand. "Hunk, I think we broke Lance."

Hunk fake gasped. "Oh no, I suppose we'd better leave him to get _fixed_." The two rushed away, chasing after some dogs.

Keith turned back to Lance, who wouldn't meet his gaze. So much for being back to confident. "Well that was..." Keith struggled to find a word to describe it. "... something."

Lance nodded almost imperceptibly. "Mhmm..."

"So... What do you do here all day? I mean, you must do something, there's no way you just stand here for four hours."

Getting Lance back to himself was easier than Keith expected it to be.

"Why, of course I don't! Allow me to show you." Lance was looking around the park. "First, we gotta find a dog. One that came with us, obviously. Aha!" He ran off and Keith followed. Standing next to them was Coran. "I figure you should start with a dog you'll see every day." Lance reached into the backpack he had taken with him and retrieved a tennis ball. Coran's ears perked up and he jumped up, trying to snatch the ball from Lance's grasp. "Dog basics: fetch!" He threw the ball, Coran streaking after it. His face fell moments later. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't have chosen fetch. This dog never actually makes it to the ball, he just... goes halfway and forgets."

Keith can't help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. Lance glances over at him, lips quirking up in a small smile.

"What kind of dog..." Keith wonders through his laughter.

"Can't even play fetch?" Lance finishes for him, laughing softly along.

The two made several more valiant attempts at playing fetch with Coran. And failed miserably. Finally giving up, Lance led Keith over to a bench and sat down hard with a sigh.

"So, your friends," Keith started, oblivious to the fact that Lance had jumped and was now sitting wide-eyed, heart beating a mile a minute. "Are they dogwalkers too?"

Lance practically sagged with relief. "Yeah, they are."

"Is that how y'all met, or...?"

Lance's ear caught the _y'all_ and the smooth, southern drawl that accompanied the word. "No, we met in high school. But after graduating we didn't know what to do with ourselves, till I brought up the amazing idea to become dogwalkers." He grinned, bragging that it was his idea. "The other two are only doing it till they finish college and get real jobs. Hunk wants to be a chef; he's so good at cooking, you wouldn't believe--!" Lance's chest swelled, proud of his best friend. "Pidge is gonna be an engineer, or maybe just a hacker--she hasn't really settled yet."

Keith nodded along. He could definitely imagine the two in their preferred careers. But Lance had left something out. "What about you?"

"Hmm..." Lance had never really given it much thought before, his career path. But now that he did, he found himself running face-first into a wall. "I don't know, really... I guess I'll just keep walking dogs?" At once the lost look on his face vanished, replaced by a cocky grin. "And when Hunk and Pidge quit, I'll have a full-time job on my hands. All the dogs in the city will need me to rescue them from the cruel fate that is... not being walked among friends." He finished that last part in a dramatic whisper, eyes narrowed.

Keith stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. He'd never been so confused in his life, and it had never felt so good to be so.

"Hey!" Lance protested. "That's my dream you're making fun of there!"

Keith clamped his mouth shut, turning red with the effort of holding back laughter. "Sorry, sorry, just... You said it like you were in a Shakespeare play or something..."

Lance gaped at the other boy, putting a hand to his heart in mock offence. "Excuse me, I'll have you know I could put on a performance better than that old kook."

Rolling his eyes, Keith winked sarcastically. "Riiight, OK..."

"No appreciation for true art..." Lance muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Out in the field, Coran was approached by a large dog they had brought with them. Coran held rigidly still while the bigger dog sniffed at him. When the dog's nose strayed where Coran didn't appreciate it straying, he yipped at the large dog, who sprang back in shock. The corgi continued barking at the other dog until it turned tail and fled, Coran streaking after it.

"So, what about you?" Lance's voice jerked Keith back to himself.

"Huh?"

"What do you wanna do?"

Lance asked with such sincere curiosity that Keith stared at him a moment, lost for words. The open, blue gaze became too much for him, and he turned away, unaware that his cheeks were flaming. "W-well..." Keith shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe music?"

"Like a street performer?" Lance's voice sounded strained.

"Hm, yeah. That sounds like fun." Then the implications of that idea hit Keith. "On second thought... Scratch that. I'm not performing." He turned to look at Lance, who was teary-eyed with held-in laughter. "What? What's so funny?"

Lance's head whipped to face the other direction. "Nothing! You just looked so serious, like you were contemplating the meaning of life instead of what you wanted to do with yours. And then when I suggested street performing as a joke, you took it so seriously..." Lance trailed off, trying his best not to laugh. Then he exclaimed, "I wasn't laughing at you! OK, maybe I was, but not in a bad way!"

"Lance, it's fine," Keith interrupted, smiling slightly. "You can laugh, I'm not gonna be mad." _I've had worse,_ he thought, but he wouldn't say something so depressing, not to this upbeat boy.

Suddenly Lance froze. "Wait wait wait, hold up a sec!" He turned and fixed Keith with an accusing glare. "You play an instrument?"

Keith nodded slowly. "Yeah... Piano and guitar."

"And I haven't heard of this till now because?"

"You never asked? And it never came up before?" Keith's brow furrowed. Why was Lance getting so worked up about this?

He _tsked_ , waving his hand. "Excuses, excuses," Lance said airily. "So. You write your own stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Mhmm, mhmm..." Lance nodded several times. "You sing too?"

"Yeah..." Keith felt like he was walking into a trap.

Lance continued nodding, acting casual as he made his request. "Uh-huh, so can I hear some?"

Keith deadpanned. "No."

He watched as Lance's jaw dropped again. "What? That's no fair!"

"How is it not fair?"

"Well, I'm showing you what I do for a living, aren't I?"

Keith opened his mouth, about to argue back. But Lance had a point. "Huh."

"Huh?" Lance echoed.

"Well... maybe I'll let you hear. But absolutely no watching! If you so much as look at me while I'm playing, you can kiss my music goodbye." Perhaps he was being a bit overdramatic, but so was the other boy.

Lance grinned as wide as Keith had ever seen him grin. "Yessss!" He fistpumped. "Time to round up the dogs and head on back!"

"What!" Keith stood, following him as he ran after the dogs. "I was talking like tomorrow, or next week!"

Lance ignored his protests and continued leashing the dogs.

Keith was so fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I can't believe people are actually reading this??  
> it makes me so happy 'u'  
> here's another chapter, and I've decided to screw a regular update schedule, life is hectic  
> enjoy!
> 
> edited 08/08/18 to remove shiro & allura's romance

By the time they got back to Allura’s, Keith had still not thought up a song to perform for Lance. He had racked his brain the entire walk back and come up empty-handed. Now he could feel his pulse speeding up and his thoughts racing, scattering. He was so fucked. So very fucked. He could barely wrap his head around how he'd gotten into this stupid situation.

He managed to unlock the door, leaving Lance to shut and lock it behind him. Brain on autopilot, he sat on the couch and pulled his guitar into his lap. He stared at his knee over the wooden body as Lance took off Coran's collar and sat down on the chair opposite Keith. He fixed the performer with an expectant gaze, which soon slipped into something more worried, apologetic, even.

"Uh, Keith, listen, if you don't want to, that's fine. I got a bit overexcited at the park. If it makes you uncomfortable--"

Keith cut him off by strumming a chord. He hadn't meant to, but Lance's words had sparked something within him, and the thought that he couldn't let Lance see him in this pathetic state stuck out among all the others. His hands still shook and his pulse still raced, but he made himself keep strumming after that initial chord. He had to do this, if not for his own sake then for Lance's. Because he'd been so happy to hear Keith was an aspiring musician, had wanted to encourage him, it seemed. So Keith kept sliding his fingers across the strings.

 

* * *

 

 

When Lance saw Keith's lost expression, he immediately regretted ever having asked him to perform. He clearly wasn't comfortable with it. But when he'd said so, Keith had started playing the guitar.

Remembering what he had warned, about not watching him, Lance shifted in the chair till he faced its back, and listened.

Keith's playing was beautiful. Lance had all the time he needed to soak it in, to savour it, before Keith started to sing. And, oh man, could this boy sing. With only the first note he had already taken Lance's breath away. Lance was sure he would have let the other boy steal anything from him, if he only kept singing.

The song started out slow, but by the time Keith reached the second verse, it had picked up. Not in speed, rather in intensity. Lance could feel the emotion pouring from Keith's very soul with every word he sang. He couldn't take it anymore; Lance turned in his spot to watch the performance.

Keith's eyes were squeezed shut, face contorted with feeling. The fingers of his left hand moved skillfully across the frets, those on his right not struggling in the slightest to keep up with their quick tempo.

As he stared at the other boy in wonder, Lance felt a pull deep in the pit of his stomach. And then, too soon, the song ended, and Keith was opening his eyes. Before Lance's mind could catch up to the situation and look away from him, Keith was blushing a violent shade of red.

"You--you asshole!" he spluttered. "I told you not to watch!" 

Lance stood up and walked toward Keith, whose eyes widened further and watched Lance's progress across the room. His brows shot up, then furrowed. Lance sat down next to the freaked-out boy, and just studied his face. His cheeks reddened more, if that was even possible.

"L-Lance...?" His voice came out weak, shaky, strangled. It held a question for Lance that he wasn't even sure he could answer.

"Shh." Lance just wanted to sit like this for a while, not saying anything, and study Keith's features. His grey eyes that held the slightest bit of purple. The clean line of his bangs against his forehead. The way one corner of his mouth quirked either up or down before he spoke. In this moment, it quirked down.

"Lance..." he said again, sounding less unsure than he had before. His quiet voice held a warning, one Lance knew he should heed, yet didn't.

Lance found it in himself to speak. He had meant to say, "Yeah?" but instead what came out was a whispered, "Can I kiss you?"

Keith was suddenly on his feet, facing the other way, shoulders stiff. "No," he replied flatly. Lance's heart sunk. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Keith kept talking. "Please leave."

Knowing that arguing his case would be futile, Lance stood wordlessly and trekked across the room, and opened the door. He paused in the frame, and looked back at Keith, who hadn't moved. He was shaking slightly, almost like he was trying to keep from crying. Or laughing.

Lance left, and the door shut with a click.

 

* * *

 

Lance knew he had fucked up as soon as the words left his mouth. He shouldn't have done it. Done what? He shouldn't have asked Keith to sing for him, or turned to watch him, or gone to sit next to him, or opened his mouth at all.

He knew he had to apologize, but it was difficult to when Keith wouldn't open the door. Every day for the next few days Lance showed up on his doorstep. Every day for the next few days Keith refused to open the door.

The dogwalker wished he could take back his words, more than anything. Keith clearly didn't remember what Lance did, but then, their time spent together in the past hadn't been very significant. He should've known Keith would be the type to shrug it off and forget it ever happened. And still he'd gotten his hopes up. Lance had thought that meeting Hunk and Pidge would've brought at least _something_ back. Turns out he'd been wrong, as he always seemed to be these days.

So Lance had given up trying to get Keith to open his door. He could take a hint despite how oblivious he sometimes seemed. And so he eased into this new silence with the grace of a buffalo, thinking he was giving Keith the space he needed to breathe, to shake himself of Lance once more.

 

* * *

 

He reverted to his regular dogwalking schedule--twice a week--much to the amusement of Pidge and the apprehension of Hunk. He tried to keep up his confident, go-get-em attitude. He tried to pretend the incident with Keith had never happened.

Unfortunately for Lance, both Hunk and Pidge had soon caught on and grew worried for him.

Despite the fact that they both knew not to bring up Keith where Lance could hear them, one day Pidge's curiosity--and worry, though she would never admit it--got the best of her.

"So, Lance," she said conversationally, ignoring Hunk's warning glance. "I see you've gone back to walking the dogs twice a week. Was the workload too much for you?" Lance prayed she wasn't going where he thought she was. "Or was it just Allura's dog that needed extra walking, and now you've stopped walking him, you're free to sulk the rest of the week?"

Lance stopped himself from flinching at her words. "I'm not sulking."

Pidge rolled her eyes. "Dude. You so are." She fixed him with a serious look, one that prevented Lance from looking away, no matter how hard he tried. "Listen close, Lance. I've known you and Keith since high school. He sulks, you sulk, you both sulk and you need to get up off your ass and go apologize to him! If you can't get over yourselves, things are gonna end like they did in school." Lance stared at Pidge, eyes wide. So she did remember knowing Keith. "What are you waiting for? Move your ass!" She shooed him out of the coffee shop, earning a grateful look from Hunk, who'd also been worried but was too gentle to tell it like it was.

Lance dragged his feet down the road, trying to come up with a proper apology for Keith. What could he even say that wouldn't make Keith uncomfortable? That was all he was good for, wasn't it? Making people uncomfortable.

He sighed, turning the corner onto the street where all the food trucks parked at lunch. Sweet strains of music reached his ears, making him glance around for the source. There'd never been music playing here before, not that he remembered. Then he found the performer, and his jaw dropped.

There was Keith, standing at the edge of the crowd with his guitar in his hands and a nervous expression on his face. He was singing a melody Lance had never heard before. It was probably something Keith had written himself.

Lance moved in closer so he could hear the words, but the song ended. Keith was looking right at him, and his expression went from nervous to _anxiety_. He drew in a slow breath, and started plucking the strings, this time in a different tune. It was sweet, soft, and slow. Beautiful. When he opened his mouth to sing, Lance didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this.

 

_My world of shadows,_

_Closed off from the light_

_Head down,_

_Eyes screwed shut tight_

 

_I didn't know what I'd been doing till this point_

_But there you were_

_So full of joy_

 

* * *

 

_Fuuuuuck_ _._

Keith didn't know what he was doing, why he was standing there, in front of hundreds of people and _Lance_ pouring his heart out through song. What had Lance _done_ to him? 

His mind was wandering, and he hoped he didn't screw up this song. He wished he was at home. He wished Lance wasn't watching him sing. He wished Lance didn't have that stupid expression on his face. He wished that he'd opened the door. 

 

_You opened up my eyes, you see_

_And now I see the light of your world_

_You dazzled me,_

_With your shining eyes_

_You frightened me,_

_With your wishful smile_

_So now I'll open up the door for you,_

_And if you want to, come_ _right through_

_You're more than welcome to_

 

He let his voice fade, and the chord progression changed as the song ended. He wished Lance would break their eye contact so he didn't have to.

The last chord rang out, and the crowd burst into applause. Some dropped tips into his open guitar case. 

Keith glanced up at Lance, who was still standing in the same spot wearing the same dumbstruck expression. He seemed to break free from his trance and raced over to Keith, eyes still wide.

 

* * *

 

"Holy shit, Keith," he breathed. He was at a loss for words. When he found some, he blurted them. "That was honestly the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, like holy shit, are you talented."

Keith's small, embarrassed smile made his heart stutter. "Well... I figured I'd better get used to performing if I'm gonna be a musician. And street performances are the best way to do that, right?"

Lance grinned. Keith had remembered his words. "So, what does it mean?"

"What does what mean? The song?"

Lance thought that would have been obvious. "Yeah. That lyric, 'open the door, come in, you're welcome to.'"

The other boy blushed and stared at the ground. "Oh. That." He took a moment to respond, taking a steadying breath and meeting Lance's gaze. "Look, Lance, I'm pretty sure you feel... _that_ way about me. And to be honest with you, I'm not really sure if I do. And... I'm not really ready for that kind of relationship right now... Just, I had a not-so-good experience not too long ago, so... Maybe we could still be friends?"

Lance blinked, feeling his hopes shatter to pieces. That wasn't what he was expecting. But then again, this wasn't some romantic movie, where everything turned out alright because _love_. He nodded, wanting to show Keith he would be supportive. "Yeah. Friends are great, man. I'm also really sorry about making a move on you. I should've thought beforehand."

Keith smiled at him. "Oh! That reminds me. Coran's only been in the backyard these past few days. We've got a dog to walk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I suck at writing drama  
> I wanted to stretch out the drama, but when I wrote it I thought it would be better this way  
> idk, let me know what you think in the comments!  
> thanks always for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooow has it ever been a while—a whole goddamn year and a bit  
> here I am, back with some actual plot for this story (and thanking god I put some cryptic bullshit in the first three chapters to make it sound like there was depth and a plan)  
> school’s out now, so hopefully I’ll be able to write more over the summer!
> 
> edited 08/08/18 to remove shiro & allura's romance

Keith was packing away his guitar when Lance remembered--

"Keith! We have to go to the coffee shop!"

"What? Why?"

"I left my coffee on the table! We have to get it before Pidge drinks it!" He grabbed Keith by the wrist and towed him back around the corner. By the time they got there, Pidge and Hunk were walking out the door.

"Pidge!" Lance exclaimed, taking her by the shoulders. "Is my coffee still there?"

"What coffee? The only coffee I saw was the coffee I drank."

"*Pidge! I can't believe you! How could you do this to me?" He released her and stomped inside. "Come on, Keith. We're getting coffee."

"Coffee dates are so cliché, Lance. I thought you had better taste than that." Lance didn't dignify Pidge's comment with a response.

 

* * *

 

Things between them went back to normal pretty quick, and within the first couple days, Keith was hanging out with Hunk, Pidge, and Lance after walking the dogs.

"I really do think Lance should give you half his pay," Pidge was saying. "I mean, you *are getting pretty good with dogs, and you do most of the dirty work."

Lance pressed a hand against his chest. "Excuse me?!" he gasped, aghast. "Are you saying I'm slave-driving?"

"Your words, not mine." Pidge leaned back in her chair, satisfied.

Lance turned to Hunk for consolation, but Hunk shook his head and jokingly agreed with Pidge.

He looked to Keith next, who had been watching the exchange with a small smile. It dawned on him that maybe they weren't kidding. His face flushed red and he stammered, "N-no, it's fine, really, I don't need any money."

Lance sighed and sagged in his chair, then clapped Keith on the shoulder. "Good, cause I do."

Pidge was laughing—really it was more like cackling, though. She squeaked, "You're so gullible! Lance, can we keep him? Pleeeaaase?" She laced her fingers together and tried to look innocent—*tried.

"Depends. Can we keep you, Keith?" Lance fixed his gaze on the other man's.

Keith was momentarily lost. They wanted to keep him? That wasn't code for *have him move in with them, was it? Maybe they just wanted him to keep hanging out with them. "Uh... Sure, yeah." He smiled. "I'd like that."

There was a gagging noise, and Keith and Lance turned to see Pidge pulling faces at them. "Gag me with a spoon, you two are nasty."

Lance's face heated up at her words. "What? All we did was smile!"

Now it was Keith's turn to blush. Did Lance's friends *know? Realistically, he'd probably told them. But would he have? He wouldn't've, right? Keith chastised himself, forcing down the squirming building in his stomach. Did Lance's friends think that they were—*dating? There was no way they thought that, right?

Keith shook away the thought. It didn’t matter what they thought, he reminded himself. And if that *was what they thought… They’d figure it out eventually.

 

* * *

 

When he got back home, Keith leaned his guitar, in its case, against the living room wall, then proceeded to faceplant on the couch. He groaned, long and low, into the cushion until he felt Coran’s wet nose poking at his ear.

He lifted his head only to jerk back when a floppy tongue ambushed his newly-exposed face.

“Aagh! What the fuck— Get off—! Coran— No—”

His panic only mildly increased when the dog leapt up onto the couch as Keith sat up to avoid it. He fell back against the pillows at the opposite end of the couch, Coran planting his feet firmly on Keith’s chest, heaving with laughter. He shoved half heartedly at the dog’s muzzle. It seemed to sense that his heart wasn’t in the action and kept getting more and more excited.

When the dog finally stopped—his tongue maybe got too dried out and he needed to rehydrate—Keith had the chance to lean his head on the back of the couch and ask the ceiling why he’d just done what he’d done. Why had he gone and performed in the street where he knew Lance liked to get coffee? He could’ve just as easily gone to the café and apologized.

He glanced over at his guitar, sitting innocently next to the chair. Would there ever be a time where the thing didn’t fill him with dread? He wasn’t even sure where the feeling came from, but every time he so much as glanced at his guitar, oily black tendrils curled around his heart and squeezed it, like an octopus would its prey. Of course, he forced the churning down because there really was no reason for it, and if there wasn’t a reason, it shouldn’t be there.

He stood, suddenly restless. His gaze slid over everything in the room, landing on an object he never would have thought he’d use. He closed his hand around it, almost cringing at the rough, half-wet-with-slobber texture, and called, “Coran! Do you want the tennis ball?”

Coran whipped around the corner, faster than he’d ever moved in his life, and stood at Keith’s feet, paws kneading the floor and tongue hanging stupidly out of his mouth.

Keith led him outside. It was considerably harder to walk with the dog jumping on his legs in vain attempts to get the ball.

“Sit,” Keith commanded once they’d cleared the doorway.

Coran did not sit.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.”

Keith threw the ball.

Coran took off like a bat out of hell.

The ball landed on the border of the flowerbed.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Coran ignored the mildew-smelling ball in favour of the perfume of the flowers.

“No!” Keith rushed over and shoved his hands under the dog’s stomach, heaving him up. Legs splayed in the air and butt drooping, Coran made an inquisitive noise. “You can’t eat the flowers. Those are Allura’s. We both know she’ll be super mad if you eat them all.”

He set the dog down, picked up the tennis ball—“You know what you can chew? The tennis ball.”—and threw it.

Coran bolted once again, but this time he managed to pick up the ball.

Keith knelt down and urged him to bring the ball back. To Keith’s great surprise, he did.

“Huh,” he mused as he rubbed Coran behind the ears, “you don’t like being watched by all those other dogs, do you? I get that. It’s tough being smaller than everyone else, isn’t it?”

As Keith reached a particularly good spot, Coran sat down and started kicking his leg. Keith froze. Had he broken the dog? Was he trying to kick his hand off his head? Then Coran nudged his head into Keith’s hand and Keith melted. This dog wasn’t so bad.

 

* * *

 

This dog was very bad.

He’d eaten all his food and a pile of mail that had been stacked neatly on the coffee table, leaving pieces of paper strewn about the floor. Not just in the living room, no, because that would’ve been too easy for Keith to clean up. The dog had carried it all around the first floor of the house—his legs were too small to go up the stairs.

In a panic, Keith dialled Lance’s number.

_“Lance Aínza.”_

“Lance!” he practically shouted into the receiver.

_“…Keith?”_

“I need your help! Something bad just happened!”

_“Shit, what is it? You know what, we’re wasting time, I’m coming over.”_

“Now?!”

_“Now!”_

 

* * *

 

Keith gathered all the little paper pieces and dumped them in the recycling. Poor Allura wouldn’t get her bills paid. Oh well. Such is life.

At the knock on the door, he dashed across the house and swung it open. There was Lance, red-faced and panting, a thin sheen of sweat on his dark skin.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s the dog!”

“Is he OK? Oh please don’t tell me he died—I mean, I knew he was getting old but there’s no way it’s his time yet. Just look at how happy he was at the park! Chasing all those dogs… Truly, he was a pure soul.”

“What? No—he’s not dead but he might be getting there!”

“What! Where is he?”

Keith led the way into the bathroom. He figured it’d be easier to clean the tiles than the carpet if Coran yarfed.

As soon as he opened the door, the dog bounded out.

“Coran no!” He corralled him back into the small room and shut the door behind himself and Lance.

“So what’s wrong with him? He seems normal enough.”

Keith kept his hands on the dog so he wouldn’t jump around and make himself sick. “He, uh, ate the bills.”

Lance blinked at him, then guffawed.

“What?! What if he *dies! That shit’s on me!”

“No, Keith, you—” Lance breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. “It’s fine. Dogs eat weird stuff all the time. Man, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve seen this dog eat something off the sidewalk…”

“For real?” Keith’s relief was almost palpable. He sank back against the cold wall. “Oh thank god.”

“Lance is fine.”

“Oh, shut it.”

“So if that’s all?”

Keith hesitated, bit his lip. He didn’t want to sound dumb, but he also had no idea… “Um… So, Coran’s also out of food?”

“You don’t know where to get dog food?”

Keith shook his head.

“Oh. Want me to take you?” Lance’s eyes were wide with… something. Wide with something. 

“Please.”

“Welp, no time like the present!”

 

* * *

 

Keith elected to carry the heavy bag of dog food instead of walk the dog. Lance had made him take the leash on the way to the grocery store.

“Oh, man,” Lance was saying, gesturing wildly. Keith felt a small smile creep onto his lips, which he shut down right away because no way in hell was he letting himself feel fond of anything that anyone was doing right now, except for maybe Coran, who was trying to chew some grass with his mouth wide open and his tongue flipping out. “This reminds me of this one time we all snuck out and—”

Keith liked to watch Lance’s eyes whenever he talked. They lit up when he recounted stories about his friends or family, and his smile stretched wide across his cheeks, showing off crooked pale yellow teeth. His gestures varied from his hand held palm-up to his arms flung wide. If Keith hadn’t been watching him so closely, he might have been smacked.

“—and then you said to me, ‘You mean I just scraped my wallet clean and you had a five in your pocket the whole time?’” Lance laughed at the memory, gaze far away.

Then Keith jolted.

Wait.

Had he said—?

“Did you just say… I said that?”

Lance abruptly stopped walking, eyes wide and face slack. “Uh…”

“Lance. I need you to tell me. Was I there?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up, then down. “Y— … Yes.”

Keith’s knees turned to jelly underneath him, and he caught himself on a street lamp post in the nick of time and sunk to the ground.

“Holy shit… Holy shit…”

“Look, Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let it slip this way… Are you OK? Oh, man, that really fucked you up, didn’t it…”

Keith flicked his gaze to Lance’s concerned one. “Are you telling me we were friends back in high school?”

“Yeah, man. We were all really good friends. You, Pidge, Hunk, and me.”

Keith’s throat closed up. He croaked, “Oh my god,” before launching himself at Lance, tears soaking into the other boy’s jacket. “I can’t believe we found each other…”

Gingerly, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith, pressing his face into his neck. “Me neither.”


End file.
